


Don't Complicate It

by DoctorsOrders



Series: Screw My Head Up [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Breathplay, Coming Untouched, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Play, Crying, Dark-ish, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Ravishment, Ravishment Fantasy, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sadism, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Threats of Violence, noncon roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorsOrders/pseuds/DoctorsOrders
Summary: It would probably be easier for Jim to submit and endure it quietly, but that's not an option, no matter how much it hurts. McCoy loves how Jim fights him, it only makes it better in the end.





	Don't Complicate It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consultingrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingrogers/gifts).



> Hope this is indeed more of what you wanted~
> 
> Airing my kinky laundry yet again. No lead in/set-up this time because it's better without it. Fair warning, the scene is rougher than the last, aaaaand I'm definitely not sorry. 
> 
> **Again:** No archive warning because tags. **Please** read the tags.  
>  This does not have to be your thing, and that's totally fine.
> 
> It's not 100% necessary to read the first part of the series to understand this one, but they do reference "last time" and it provides context. In the end it's still PWP so it's your call!

Jim woke up slowly, his heart jumping in his throat when he felt how thick his tongue was. Fuck, fucking _fuck_. He already knew there was nothing he could do, McCoy had surely seen to that. He was on his knees slumped face-down against a chair on the floor. His legs were frog-tied beneath him, his wrists bound together crossed behind his back. He struggled against them only to feel something buried inside him, rope caressing his body as he did. No chance of escape.

 

Jim hadn't reported the first incident. It would have been too shameful. He'd have to recount the experience, go up against McCoy on the stand, and he couldn't do that. He just _couldn't_. So McCoy had gotten away with it, gotten away with absolutely ruining him. After the last time he'd walked Jim out, back to his cabin, hand dangerously low on his back. Jim hadn't been able to wash his touch off, couldn't get the feeling to ebb. Hating himself for his orgasm, hating his body for betraying him, hating McCoy. 

 

He'd noticed fewer looks lately. Granted, Jim had started actively avoiding him, taking the long way around the ship, even altering his schedule. But he'd thought McCoy had gotten what he wanted from Jim. He'd broken him, just like he'd said he would. And where was the fun in playing with something you'd already broken? Jim had figured. 

 

He'd been wrong. God, he'd been fucking wrong. 

 

"Welcome back, sugar," McCoy said from behind him, his voice dripping venom and desire. 

 

Jim whimpered. It was pathetic, but there was no use in pretending he was anything else. 

 

"I hate you," Jim said coldly. 

 

McCoy laughed and it made Jim's stomach hurt. "I don't care, Kirk. You can hate me all you want. I'm gonna take you all the same, and you're still gonna moan like a pretty whore when you come."

 

Jim's face went red and he tried to hide against his shoulder. If last time has been any indication, McCoy was spot on. He wondered if he wished it hard enough if the vacuum of space could suck him away. 

 

"You're already more subdued. It won't take much until you're falling apart for me."

 

Jim craned his neck around, looking up at him. He managed to spit weakly in McCoy's direction. 

 

McCoy tsked, he ground the toe of his boot into Jim's ass. The toy pushed deeper inside and Jim gasped, forehead falling down against the chair cushion. 

 

"None of _that_ , sugar." 

 

Jim couldn't move. McCoy nudged the blunt object further inside him. It felt metal, Jim wondered if it wasn't a ball hook. It didn't seem to have much girth except right at the tip. It was too big. He shivered at the idea of McCoy putting it inside him while he was sedated, at him having complete access to his body. It was almost worse somehow, knowing that McCoy could have just used him like that, but instead chose to wait until Jim could be conscious and complicit in his torture.

 

"Say _'thank you Len'_ ," McCoy commanded leaning down, his grip uncomfortably tight in Jim's hair.

 

" _No_ ," Jim refused, tears already pricking at his eyes, "Fuck you." 

 

"You are _stubborn_ , Kirk. This would be so much easier for both of us if you'd just cooperate."

 

"You're a monster."

 

"Maybe.” McCoy grinned straightening back up, "You hoping I'll bring out my claws?"

 

Surely McCoy couldn't have a darker side than this, but Jim didn't dare to find out. He bit his lip, looking away, resigning himself to whatever debauchery McCoy was going to subject him to.   

 

"Been thinking about you since last time," McCoy said, thumbing open the mag-closure on his pants, "About how you cried and begged. About how you kept it to yourself after because you wanted me to fuck you again."

 

Jim shook his head, “I didn’t beg.” It earned him a harder yank of his hair. "I don't want this."

 

"Yes you do, sugar."

 

" _No_ ," he whispered. 

 

"You know I’m trying my very best to be nice and you are throwing it in my face. Don’t make me get mean. You think you don’t like it now… _don’t_ push your luck.“

 

Jim couldn’t help but whimper. 

 

McCoy sighed contentedly as he took his cock out of his briefs, stroking his thick length for a moment. He was already hard, probably had been since the moment Jim opened his eyes, maybe even before. He dragged Jim away from the chair using a thick knot between his shoulders. The motion caused the anal hook to put an unexpected pressure on his prostate and Jim moaned despite himself. 

 

McCoy sat, positioning Jim between his splayed legs. _Fuck_ , he didn't want to do this. Jim knew it would only be worse is he protested, but he had to try. 

 

"Now Kirk, I know you've sucked dick with that big, pretty mouth of yours. You're gonna be sweet, you understand?" McCoy dragged his flushed cock head over Jim's closed lips, smearing precome across them. 

 

Jim clenched his jaw, he had no power, no leverage, but that didn’t mean he’d willing obey. He turned his head as McCoy tried to push a finger between his lips. 

 

"Come on, sugar, open up for me. Can't wait to be down your throat."

 

Jim pulled away again. He felt a sharp, hot pain across his cheek and Jim winced crying out in surprise. 

 

McCoy crammed his fingers into Jim's mouth when it opened, keeping the hand that had struck Jim raised. "You're gonna do this, even if I have to break your jaw," McCoy growled. "Don't make me do that."

 

He didn't doubt that he would, but Jim desperately didn’t want to suck him. He didn't want _any_ of this, but what choice did he have really? He slacked his jaw, releasing the pressure on McCoy's fingers. 

 

"That's better," McCoy told him with satisfaction. 

 

He guided his cock into Jim's mouth. Jim sucked him half-heartedly. All he had to do was blow him, he didn't have to be good. McCoy groaned anyway. He twisted one hand in Jim's hair, the other between them, fondling his balls. Jim supposed the only reason he wasn't made to do that as well were his bound arms. At least McCoy was clean, his taste just a tolerable washed skin and musk. 

 

McCoy seemed bored after only a few moments, forcing Jim to take him deeper with an unapologetic pressure on his head. Jim didn't struggle much, he'd been ready for that. He took a shaky breath in through his nose and let his tongue caress McCoy's swollen cock. 

 

"Perfect little cocksucker, your mouth was made for me," he praised. 

 

Jim could feel his face was beet red, and he refused to open his eyes. He focused on making sure his teeth stayed covered so McCoy wouldn't slap him again—or at least wouldn’t have an excuse to.

 

Jim's obedience served him well and McCoy allowed him to pull back and draw a full breath.

 

"If you looked like this when you sucked admiralty's dick, no wonder they gave you your own ship,” McCoy chuckled

 

"Fuck you," Jim said, forgoing the consequences as he pulled off. He hated the idea that he'd done sexual favors to get his position., hated the disrespect. He hadn’t. He’d worked for it. He’d worked hard. McCoy had no right to taunt him like this. 

 

McCoy shook his head looking amused and exasperated. "Sugar, you're in no position to be that rude, especially when I'm being so nice."

 

"I fucking _hate you_ ," Jim spat, anger blossoming across his conscious, overriding his self-preservation. 

 

He held Jim's head for a minute, stroking his face in a way that was far too gentle before forcing himself past Jim's lips again. His cock inched further and further down Jim’s throat until Jim’s nose was flush with his pelvis. It took a few seconds for Jim to actually register what had happened. It _hurt_. His cock was thick and stifling, filling his airway. He couldn’t fucking breath. McCoy held him there as Jim’s throat spasmed and he made a gagging noise. Jim tried to fight but he had nowhere to go. 

 

He wondered if McCoy might let him die like this. _He'll probably want to come before he kills me,_ Jim thought bitterly. 

 

Jim wished he wasn't so hard. Wished he wasn't tied in a way where the rope acted like a mild cock ring. Wished McCoy couldn't see. Wished he could get even the tiniest bit of air in his lungs. Mercifully, McCoy pulled him back just as he felt like he was going to retch. Jim wheezed for a moment, McCoy watching him, amused. 

 

Just as Jim felt like he was starting to regain composure McCoy maneuvered him back, his cock battering the back of Jim’s throat before sliding down. McCoy held him down again, Jim took it marginally better, or at least, it took longer before it became unbearable. Jim could hear his own distressed sounds, the erratic heaves as he struggled with his gag-reflex. How McCoy could manage to get off on this, Jim didn’t understand. He couldn’t fight McCoy’s hold, but could only wait for the man to decide he’d had enough. Jim’s lungs burned and there was a haze creeping into his thoughts. 

 

When McCoy let up on the pressure Jim jerked away, panting. There was sweat on his brow, his throat ached, and he wished he could be anywhere else but here, bound between McCoy’s legs. He hung his head, hoping the submissive gesture would be enough of an apology to at least get the oxygen deprivation to stop. 

 

“You take that so nice,” McCoy told him cheerily, “I like how you sound choking on my cock.” 

 

 _You would_ , Jim thought blearily but he knew better than to say it. 

 

“You gonna suck me like I asked or am I gonna have to hold you down until your throat gets me off all on it’s own? It’s my professional opinion that that’ll be a lot worse for you.” 

 

Jim didn’t respond. He couldn’t find the strength to, he let his shoulders slump as much as he was able in the rope.

 

McCoy tilted his chin up, pulling at Jim’s bottom lip. Jim opened his mouth, letting his tongue loll out, waiting. As much as he hated to willingly do anything for McCoy this seemed the far better alternative. 

 

Clearly, McCoy agreed. “Good choice, sugar.” 

 

Jim gave him the best dam blowjob he could manage without his hands or dignity intact. McCoy kept his hand on Jim’s throat, his fingers digging into the delicate skin. A reminder of why he was being cooperative. 

 

He gave Jim no warning as he came, his release punctuated by a long, filthy moan. He held Jim in place, not so he gagged, but enough that Jim had no choice but to swallow his sharp, salty release. Jim took the thick come with an air of disgust that went unnoticed by the intended party. His own cock ached and Jim cursed his unfaithful body. 

 

When McCoy finished he let Jim pull away, casting a sidelong glance at Jim's red, weeping cock. His lip quipped up. “Now, say _‘thank you Len. Thank you for letting me taste you._ ” 

 

"No," Jim said instead.

 

He felt the sharp sting of McCoy’s hand against his cheek again before Jim ever saw him move. Jim whimpered and tried to keep his head down. McCoy wouldn’t have it and Jim fought him for a moment as McCoy yanked his chin up so Jim had to look at him. 

 

"You must want me to be rough with you, Kirk. Just want me angry, huh?"

 

“Want you to stop hurting me” Jim whispered, his voice raw.

 

"What makes you think I give a damn what you want?"

 

He didn't. Jim knew he didn't fucking care. McCoy had made that abundantly clear. But Jim still hoped that maybe somewhere in there was a compassionate person who would consider ending his suffering, McCoy was a doctor after all. 

 

"Please," Jim tried, "Please let me go. You got what you wanted.“

 

McCoy laughed he sounded genuinely amused as though Jim has told him a joke and wasn't pleading for his wellbeing. "Sugar, I'm not even close to done with you tonight."

 

He stood, circling Jim like he was prey. Jim supposed he was, in one way or another. He still had his uniform on, having righted his pants when he'd finished choking Jim. In stark contrast Jim was entirely naked, bound helplessly on the floor. Jim squeezed his eyes closed and bit the inside of his cheek. Perhaps this was a horrible dream, perhaps he could wake up. 

 

“Look at how hard you are,” McCoy taunted, using his boot to tease Jim’s dripping cock against his stomach. “You like playing with me, don’t you?” 

 

Jim shivered at the sensation, keeping his eyes tightly closed. This was no nightmare. _God_ , he wished it was. He’d take a thousand fucking nightmares over this. 

 

McCoy took a knee next to him, yanking a fistful of Jim’s hair. “Look at me, Kirk,” he demanded. 

 

Jim did his best to pull away with absolutely no leverage. He only served to make the pain to his scalp increase—

 

“ _Look_ at me!” 

 

—and to make McCoy madder. 

 

He resisted again, squeezing his eyes tighter. “Fuck you!” 

 

“Fine. That's fine,” McCoy said in a tone that was far too level for Jim’s disobedience. 

 

Jim opened his eyes just in time to see the floor hurtling towards his face. McCoy held his hair unpleasantly tight to keep his nose from smashing the ground, instead he forced Jim’s shoulder down hard. He gasped at the immediate, intense pressure the hook put on his prostate. The ropes holding it inside him tight with their new position. McCoy released his grip, letting Jim’s forehead fall to the carpet. He couldn’t control the noises spilling past his lips, twisting and writhing as he tried to find any way to alleviate the overwhelming sensation, only serving to make it worse.

 

“That better, sugar?” 

 

Jim didn’t recognize the sound he made as his own, but he could tell McCoy liked it and it made his stomach churn. It was hard to balance like this, but any attempt to get comfortable was overridden by the the toy tormenting him.

 

“You’re _welcome_. Just because you don’t have any manners doesn’t mean I don’t. You just needed to feel something nice, isn’t that right?” 

 

 _Fuck_ , Jim couldn’t even find enough air in his lungs to scream. The squirming did no good. He wondered how much longer he could take it before he came or passed out.

 

McCoy tugged the rope holding the hook snug, so Jim’s wrists pulled tight and his shoulders ached but the pressure subsided for a minute. He chuckled as he watched Jim take stock: a puddle of drool trailing from his mouth, the twin puddle between his knees, beads of precome still dripping as his thighs shook, his labored breathing. If Jim didn't know any better _he'd_ think he was enjoying it. 

 

“This is the prettiest you’ve ever looked for me,” McCoy cooed as Jim’s breathing began to even out. 

 

“Please, _stop_ ,” Jim begged. 

 

“Unbelievable.” He released his hold on the rope and the unrelenting pressure returned. 

 

Jim jerked and cried, turning his head away from McCoy. At least Jim wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his face. Jim wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, cheek pressed to the ground, moaning with abandon. Finally, by some small bit of miracle, he felt a knot on his back being untied. Jim didn’t even care what that was going to mean, all he knew was that he wasn’t going to come like this, that this chapter of his torture would end. 

 

The brutal pressure on his prostate ceased, but none of the ropes seem to have loosened. He could feel McCoy tugging and manipulating his body, urging a deeper bend in his spine. 

 

"No," Jim told him uselessly, "No, no, _no_." 

 

"It's sweet when you beg," McCoy sighed, almost fondly. 

 

Jim felt like he might be sick. McCoy was despicable. He'd hear those words echo, forever tainted, in his mind; he knew it. McCoy pulled at the toy inside him. The ball, enormous and solid, slid out of him too quickly. Jim could feel each flex of his muscles as his body allowed it passage. 

 

“Want to see what was making you cry like a whore?”

 

Jim didn’t move but let out a wet sigh as McCoy dropped it in his sightline, not nearly as big as he’d imagined, as it had felt. Glinting and hard and covered in lube Jim just stared at the toy. He could hear the telltale swishing of fabric as McCoy presumably got undressed somewhere behind him. The wait for what was to come was a terrifying respite. 

 

Suddenly, there was a cold, slick smear of something against his hole. Jim would be a fool not to understand what was happening, but he'd rather deny it for another few second. Jim didn't want to accept this was happening again until it actually was. 

 

McCoy's hot cock followed the cold lube. He lined up right against Jim’s body without being inside. Jim could feel his cockhead if he flexed his hole. 

 

"Bet you can take me just like this, sugar. No fingers, just my cock stretching you open."

 

" _Don't_ , don't _please_." 

 

McCoy ignored him of course, pushing in slowly, but unyielding. He was right. Jim's body accepted it all too easily, the slowness enough for his channel to adjust as McCoy's cock filled him. There was no pretending anymore.

 

At least it didn't hurt, Jim rationalized. Maybe it should, maybe that would make him fight harder but _fuck_ if it didn't feel good. It had felt good the last time McCoy had fucked him too. Jim wanted to die, filled with shame and disgust at the thought. 

 

McCoy's cupped hand came down on the thickest part of Jim's ass and Jim sobbed and clenched tighter. McCoy groaned and swatted him again. Jim bit his lip trying to hold back the tears. Jim ached. His knees, his arms, his _cock_ , and the hit intensified all of it. 

 

"That's good, sugar. You're so tight, and so fucking _helpless_."

 

"Stop," Jim moaned softly, feeling the brokenness McCoy promised him settling in again. 

 

His cock dragged across Jim’s prostate with McCoy’s first thrust. Jim whimpered, it was too much. Too much for him to be this miserable and feel this good all at once. 

 

“Thought you might lose your shine once I fucked you,” McCoy admitted, rocking into Jim with a little more purpose. “Glad I was wrong. You feel even better the second time, your body knows how to take my cock now.” 

 

Jim continued his silence, gritting his teeth. 

 

McCoy found his rhythm, fucking Jim at an unfortunately delightful pace. Jim’s cock liked jerking in midair, pleading for friction. 

 

“You’re so warm, caressing me,” McCoy said breathlessly, “Like you just can’t wait for me to fill you up.” 

 

That time when Jim didn’t respond McCoy smacked his ass again. The sound alone made Jim shudder but the feeling made him whine desperately into the carpet. 

 

“Oh sugar, you really do _like_ that, don’t you?” McCoy said it with such confidence Jim was starting to believe he did. 

 

He hit Jim again with a curve to his hand so it made an even louder thwack. Jim felt the tears he’d been holding back spill over, crying silently against the floor. He moaned as McCoy changed his angle to get a better surface to hit, his cock slipping particularly deep stuttering against his over-sensitized prostate. 

 

“Fuck! No, _no_ , fuck!” he gasped. Blood pounding in his ears, Jim came, unable to restrain himself any longer. His cock jumped, pulsing as it spotted the floor with his release. He went limp, McCoy’s grip the only thing keeping his hips up. Jim clung to the feeling, rode it for as long as it would take him away. Maybe if he focused on the pleasure he could forget that it was his sadistic CMO still fucking him into the ground. 

 

It didn’t last nearly long enough and there were still tears rolling down his face when he came to. McCoy’s thrusts had picked up near-brutal pace. He had to be close, didn’t he? Jim wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he lost his mind. 

 

McCoy’s hips stuttered as he held Jim hard enough to bruise. The spanked skin smarted as McCoy rocked harder against him. “Oh Kirk, that’s it,” he breathed, head falling down against Jim’s limp palms. 

  
Jim did his best to tug at a chunk of McCoy’s hair in his hand, but it was too gentle, with no force and it only served to make McCoy moan filthily. The aftershocks of Jim’s orgasm surged once again, a quick, pulsing clench around McCoy’s huge girth. It was enough to do him in, McCoy groaned and snapped his hips one final time before Jim’s could feel the hot surge of come burn his insides. He thrust into Jim several more times before pulling out roughly, letting Jim all but crumple to the ground into puddles of his cooling fluids. 

 

McCoy swatted his sore rear once more and Jim was horrified and ashamed of the wanton noise that passed his lips as he lay motionless and spent. McCoy chuckled like the monster that he was.  

 

“I want to lick my come out of your fluttering little hole until you beg me to fuck you again,” he threatened mirthfully. “But you know what Kirk? You know what I think you’d like even _more_?” 

 

He didn’t dare answer. 

 

“I think I’ll dress you back up in uniform and escort out to the bridge so you can play captain. See if anyone can tell their beloved leader has my come running down his thighs.” 

 

Jim whimpered. A fresh wave of tears spilling over at the idea of letting anyone see him right now, of doing anything besides curling into a ball of repressing all of this. 

 

“How’s that sound, sugar?”

 

——

 

“Easy, easy now,” Bones soothed, as he helped Jim stretch his legs out after he’d untied the ropes. 

 

Jim’s legs were a little numb, but full circulation resuming still managed to hurt. He whined, unable to articulate it. 

 

“I know, darlin’. I know.” Bones massaged his thumb into the muscle of Jim’s sore calf with purposeful force. He followed it up with speckle of kisses before repeating the treatment to Jim’s other leg. 

 

The moment his hands were unbound, Jim brought them up to his face, trying futilely to brush the tears away before Bones got to it. Jim wasn’t sure _why_ he didn’t want Bones to see he’d been crying. Surely, it had been obvious before, the way his breathing changed, the wet sounds he’d made. Part of him was afraid it would be too much, that after everything it would be too much for for Bones: to see Jim crying real tears. 

 

“Hey, _hey_ , don’t,” Bones soothed helping Jim sit upright, “Let me.” 

 

He pushed Jim’s hand away from his eyes, dabbing at them instead with a tissue. It was undoubtably more effective, and it felt nice to have the dampness quelled for a moment. Jim’s worry was obviously unfounded, but it was good to have it dismissed so gently. 

 

“Let me hold you.” 

 

It wasn’t a question, but Jim nodded anyway pressing his sweaty, tear-streaked cheek against Bones’ taut chest. He held a new, clean tissue against Jim’s nose and Jim blew without being told. It was so acutely intimate that the tears started back up. 

 

Bones hummed reassuringly, Jim could feel the vibration of it against his cheek. “You’re okay, go on darlin’. Whatever you’re feeling is alright.” 

 

Jim shouldn’t need permission to keep crying, but he wanted it, was glad to have it. For several minutes he just sobbed quietly wrapped in Bones’ arms, and it was enough. It was the only thing that mattered, and it felt good. 

 

When Jim finally pulled away enough to look at Bones, he saw only fond acceptance. 

 

“Bones, I’m—“

 

“Don’t go saying you’re sorry unless you didn’t like it,” Bones said seriously, tracing his thumb on Jim’s bitten-red lip. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. You just tell me if _I_ do.” 

 

Jim closed his mouth and shook his head. He’d liked it. Fucking hell, he’d loved it. He felt a little drunk, it was probably something with endorphins or whatever, but Jim didn’t particularly need an explanation. Didn’t care because Bones was right here and Bones wouldn’t let anything happen to him ever. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the drifting notion that Bones would ask again later, make _sure_ Jim was content with everything, but that seemed like a long way away. 

 

Jim found himself accepting a glass of water. He hadn’t realized just how dry his mouth was, and he knocked half of it back before Bones’ steady hand was on his urging the glass down. 

 

“ _Easy_ , don’t drown yourself.” 

 

Maybe it should have been embarrassing, having to be hold how to drink water, but instead Jim found it comforting.

 

“Let me scan you? I just want to make sure you’re alright. Nothing invasive.” 

 

He nodded, knowing how much better it would make Bones feel. Jim didn’t mind, everything was fine as long as he was right here, just like this. Bones barely moved at all, pulling the tricorder from who-the-fuck-knew where. He hovered the small attachment over Jim’s cheek, not letting his grip falter around Jim’s shoulders. His tongue poked out from his mouth periodically and Jim could tell he was running over something in his head. He moved the scanner down to Jim’s throat, holding it there for much longer as he frowned at the readout for a moment. He scanned anywhere that he’d handled roughly, which was almost everywhere. Jim didn’t mind because he was right where he wanted to be. 

 

“So is the verdict ‘I’m good’?” Jim asked tiredly when Bones finally set the equipment down. 

 

“You let me worry about that.” 

 

“Okay.” That seemed right. Bones could worry for him. If he needed to, but it didn’t seem like there was anything to worry about. 

 

“Drink a little more of that for me,” Bones nudged, tapping the glass. 

 

“Mmmmm,” Jim obliged, taking another hearty sip, slower this time. 

 

“You did a really good job, Jim.” 

 

“Yeah?” he asked, his tongue felt heavy. He liked hearing Bones say it. 

 

“ _Yes_. You’re so good.” 

 

“I fucking love you,” Jim said finding himself still a little short of breath, nuzzling against him unashamed at his clinginess, “You know that right?” 

 

Bones let out a deep sigh, resting his chin on top of Jim’s head, holding him a little closer. “Of course I do. I love you too, more than you can know—all the way to the end of the stars.” 

 

“The stars don’t end, Bones,” Jim said still feeling a bit buzzed, threading his fingers with Bones’. 

 

“Oh I’m well aware of that, darlin’.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't catch it before, I promise they play safe! Jim's got a safeword/signal, everyone's aware of breathplay risks, they're both consenting, it's all pre-negotiated. Hopefully you know the drill. ((plus it's fiction y'all))  
> I just can't leave it without this postscript, because it's so different that what I usually write, especially for Jim/Bones.
> 
> If you liked it, please do let me know so I don't feel alone in my kink ;) Thanks for reading!!


End file.
